


I Feel So Proud When the Reckoning Arrives

by orphan_account



Series: Checking In [7]
Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, Codependency, For Want of a Nail, M/M, Mania, Religious Conflict, Religious Fanaticism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-18 14:29:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3573119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of Charlie Rules the World, Dennis remains convinced that he is God and sets out to proselytize the gospel of himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [biguglybird (stormbornslytherin)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=biguglybird+%28stormbornslytherin%29).



> So before we begin I would like to say that I definitely started writing this before anyone knew Dennis was going to become an actual cult leader. On the actual show it was hilarious and he had a small, yet devoted following. Here. . .not so much. This is actually a pretty unfunny fic, especially in later chapters.
> 
> As is custom for me (and Sunny itself), this fic involves pretty much every trigger warning you could think up! I'll warn per chapter too but first a blanket warning on stuff I know will definitely happen.
> 
> BLANKET WARNING FOR: intense descriptions of mania, suicidal ideation, religious fanaticism, codependency, eating disorders, depictions of violence, dubious consent, self-neglect, delusions, alcohol abuse, blood, blasphemy
> 
> CHAPTER 1 WARNING FOR: mania, delusions, eating disorders, codependency, alcohol abuse, self-neglect, religious fanaticism, blasphemy
> 
> Title is from Heretic Pride by The Mountain Goats
> 
> Thank you to singingtomysoul and biguglybird for letting me bounce this off of you.
> 
> I'm writing this out of order so I don't know how fast it will update but I hope to have it completed soon.

_You control your own reality, and you are God._

_I AM GOD_

_you control your own reality and you are god._

_I am God_

_youcontr olyour ownreali tyandyouaregod._

_i am god_

_yuocotnerol realtyanyourgod_

_ia mgo d_

_realicotnrlyuorg doan_

_ia mg odi a mg odia mgodg dim gdo_

***

Mac is eating cereal at nine AM when Dennis decides to greet the day and come out of his bedroom. There are dark bags under his eyes and his hair is skewed in all directions. He’s emanating a strange, vibrating energy, and he keeps running his hands through his hair as his eyes dart in all directions.

On good days, Dennis is rarely awake before noon and takes cat naps throughout the day. He loves sleeping more than sex with two-star girls. The only reason he’s up at nine and looking like death has to be that he hasn’t slept. Mac groans inwardly; Dennis is unbearable when he’s struck with insomnia.

“Morning, Dennis.”

“What? Oh, morning,” says Dennis. He heads over to the miscellaneous drawer and begins rifling through it.

“What are you looking for?”

Dennis swivels around. “A pen. I need a pen right now.”

“Do you not have any in your room?”

“They all ran out of ink.” He turns around and digs in the drawer again. Junk flies out of the drawer every which way as his searching becomes more intense.

“Jesus Christ, dude. Calm down. What are you writing?”

Dennis finally finds a pen, and faces Mac again. His face is lit up with a fervor; he’s been waiting for someone to ask.

“I’ve seen God.”

“Oh! That’s great. So you’re taking notes on the Bible or-”

“No, Mac,” he says, shaking his head. A Cheshire cat smile grows on his face. “I told you yesterday. _I’m_ God.”

Mac narrows his eyes at Dennis. “Wait, you were serious?”

“I’ve never been more serious about anything in my entire life.”

“That’s insane, dude.”

“Is it?” He presses the end of the pen into his chin. “You know, that’s what people said to Jesus too.”

Mac can’t help but laugh. “If you think you’re anything close to Jesus Christ –”

“I don’t. You’re not getting this. I had a _vision_.”

This gives Mac pause. “You did?”

“Yes,” says Dennis, walking away. “And I’m trying to figure out how to spread the word of the Lord so if you don’t mind-” He shuts his bedroom door behind him.

Mac spoons some of his now-soggy cereal into his mouth.

Dennis is going to hell.

***

_dennis has spent several days in solitude  filling four notebooks full of writing. thoughts flow through his mind in a wonderful enlightened procession; when one leaves, another takes its place. he’s been writing so much that he hasn’t had time to go back and read anything he has written. stopping for even a second fills his stomach full of dread and clutters his brain with urgent and disorganized buzzing. fasting for mental clarity is helping, but not as much as he wishes it were._

_finishing his bible is more necessary than sleeping or working or going outside. none of his friends understand. mac has knocked on his locked door umpteen times to ‘check in’ out of ‘worry.’ he has ignored three phone calls each from dee and charlie; paddys pub and its schemes are far beneath him now. dennis is still waiting for a return call from frank about donations to his Cause – no reply so far._

_‘_ Mac, ask Frank for money when you see him _,’ he yells in a thin voice, not pausing to look up from his notebook. there is no response. he checks his phone for the hour and date – it’s dead. his room is an island outside of time._

_within this new awareness, dennis’s body cries out in need. there’s pressure on his bladder, hollowness in his stomach, burning thirst in his throat, the black weight of exhaustion on his shoulders, and intense pain in his joints. he stands on wobbly legs, stretches his arms above his head, and realizes that he smells awful. dennis rubs the crust out of his eyes, yawns, and opens his bedroom door._

_their apartment is still outside of his room, looking the same as it did when dennis isolated himself. a ham sandwich on a plate with a glass of water and a beer sit next to his door frame. there is a note perched on the plate:_ **At work. Be back later.**

_he drinks the water, puts the beer and the note on the counter, and dumps the food in the trash. then he goes to the bathroom to take care of other matters. dennis pees more than he thought he could even hold inside of him, washes his hands, and looks in the mirror. the purple bags under his red-rimmed eyes extend to rest on his cheekbones as if even his skin is exhausted. his hair is tousled and greasy, and his lips are cracked. being a vessel of spiritual energy is taking a toll on his body and his hygiene. he needs a shower._

_dennis strips naked and turns the shower on. he steps beneath the flow of hot pressurized water, and audibly sighs in pleasure at its steady thump against his back. sloughing the grease off of his body feels amazing, and massaging shampoo into his hair feels even better. his head is clearer than it has been in a while, buzzing relegated to the back of his skull. fast replacing it is a pleasant radiating internal glow; he has done well, and the spiritual energy of the universe is rewarding him. dennis is ready to proselytize. all he needs is an audience._

_he’ll start with mac. if he can convert him, he can convert anyone._

***

Mac arrives home from work at three in the morning. To his surprise, Dennis has finally left his room. He’s watching a sermon on a local evangelical channel and taking notes. His hair is wet, and he’s in his bathrobe. There are four beers on the coffee table in front of him, but no sign that he has eaten. He looks up at Mac when the door swings shut and mutes the television.

“Mac! Just the person I wanted to see,” Dennis says hoarsely. He looks sickly, but his eyes still retain the same fervor they had when Dennis had isolated himself in his room three days before.

“Really?” Mac sits down on the couch next to him, and surreptitiously holds his palm at a close distance from the skin on Dennis’s wrist to see if he has a fever. He does seem to be running a little hot. “Do you have the flu or something, dude? Did you need someone to take you to the doctor or –”

“I’ve told you a hundred times. I’m not sick. I feel better than I ever have in my entire life. This,” he points shakily to his body. “Is just what happens when you’re a spiritual vessel. The human body isn’t built to contain gods.”

“Have you eaten recently?”

“I’m fasting.” He rubs his eye with his index finger in a tired way.

“Christ, no wonder you’re acting so weird.” Mac goes to the fridge and pulls out a peach. He sits down again and puts it in front of Dennis on the coffee table. “Eat.”

Dennis picks up the peach and inspects it, turning it to and fro in his palm. “Moses was there with the Lord forty days and forty nights; he did neither eat bread, nor drink water. And he wrote upon the tablets the words of the covenant, the Ten Commandments,” he murmurs. “Mac, how long was I in my room?”

“Three days. Are you comparing yourself to Moses now? I thought you said you weren’t doing stuff with the Bible.”

“We stand on the shoulders of giants. The man did admirable work, even if he was wrong.” Dennis picks at the skin of the peach with his thumbnail as he gazes at it hungrily.

“Dennis, you can’t just say stuff like that. If you keep talking the way you are, God is gonna strike our apartment down with a grease fire or aim lightning at us.”

“What are you not understanding about the statement ‘I am God’?” says Dennis. His voice is calm, but his grip on the peach is leaving indents. “God is living in our apartment. There is a Holy Book that I wrote in my room with the same amount of wisdom as four Bibles. We are entering a new era of religion, and it all starts with me.”

Mac has never seen Dennis so convinced of or passionate about anything. Whatever has brought his eyes from dead to more alive than Mac has ever seen them must be very powerful. Maybe it _is_ a message from God, and Dennis just needs to be pointed in the right direction.

 “You don’t need to be afraid anymore, Mac,” says Dennis, placing his hand on Mac’s.

His heart flutters in a breathless way somewhere between terror and exhilaration. This is a fork in the road, a message to choose from God that he feels wholly unprepared for. Following Dennis could be his calling or his damnation.

 “I’ll read your book if you eat your peach,” he says indecisively, and Dennis’s toothy smile lights up his sallow face with an electric glow that makes Mac feel like he swallowed a brick.

 “Deal,” says Dennis.

Maybe it was always too late for this to be a choice at all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blanket warnings continue to apply.
> 
> CHAPTER 2 WARNINGS FOR: impulsive behavior, depiction of dubious consent/rape from the perspective of the non-consenting individual, overstimulation, hitting/violence, ableist language

_he’s at the fanciest menswear store in the neighborhood that sells suits off the rack. wall to wall colors and sounds and choices assault his senses. his heart begins to race, and the world begins to take on a more dreamlike quality. he closes his eyes and breathes deeply, in and out, in and out._

_a salesman approaches him, a welcome anchor in the storm._ ‘Can I help you?’

 _dennis open his eyes and nods authoritatively._ ‘Show me the most expensive suit you have.’

_gods need to dress in style._

_-_

_he’s in a club wearing a new suit. seven girls have come and gone despite him buying them the most expensive drink in the house. being a god should make him more appealing, but his claims only seem to push them away._

_no matter. dennis doesn’t want to sleep with a girl who can’t accept the truth anyway. he calls for another round of shots._

_-_

_he’s in the bathroom being blown by a gorgeous, nameless girl, and suddenly it’s too much. the wet smack of her mouth is off rhythm with the nauseatingly loud club music. his skin is crawling; he is on fire. dennis’s body is rejecting his spirit like a transplanted organ and it hurts, it hurts._

‘i don’t _want this,’ he thinks or says through the suffocating fog._

_she didn’t hear him. she doesn’t stop._

_he tries not to cry when he cums, but the world warps so overwhelmingly that he doesn’t know whether or not he succeeds._

_-_

_the sun is up by the time he arrives home. mac is eating cereal in his boxers and poring over dennis’s writings. he smiles at dennis when he walks in the door._

‘Hey Dennis! Oh dude, I’m glad you’re back. I was checking in all day but you didn’t answer. Did you go out and rage after you went shopping or something?’

 _dennis yawns and runs his hands through his hair._ ‘I went out and experienced the world of mortals. There was no reason for you to worry.’

 _mac frowns._ ‘Are you sure, dude? You have like bruises on you and stuff.’

‘Those are none of your concern,’ _dennis replies._ ‘More importantly, I’ve noticed you’re reading my work. What do you think?’

‘It’s great! Dennis, I think you’re really on to something. The part where -’

_dennis doesn’t hear the rest; the world swims before him, making him lose his balance. mac rushes to his side to keep him upright._

‘I’m fine, I’m fine,” _says Dennis, swatting him away._ ‘I just need to lie down.’

_he doesn’t wait for mac’s response before making an unsteady beeline to his room, slamming the door behind him, and falling onto the bed in his clothes. dennis passes out for the first time in four days that way, shoes on and all._

_his dreams are full of unearthly lights, strange women, and an echoing garbled voice saying ‘more, more, more.’_

***

Dennis hasn’t shown up at the bar for three weeks now, and despite Mac’s insistence that there really is a grand plan to all of this, Charlie, Dee, and Frank are still under the impression that Dennis has lost it. They have refused to read (or listen to, in Charlie’s case) Dennis’s writings after Mac’s first disastrous attempt to dumb them down for a wider audience. It was a mistake to try in hindsight. He really should have waited for Dennis to explain his teachings himself. Mac isn’t the prophet after all.

Dee seems to doubt Dennis the most. She often comments snidely on his absence, and her face darkens at the sight of Dennis’s empty barstool when she thinks nobody can see. It’s extremely annoying and uncomfortable as shit. So, one evening when Charlie and Frank have left Dee and Mac behind to close, he slides her a beer across the countertop and says, “We need to talk.”

She sighs. “Ugh, really?”

“I don’t need any of your backtalk, Dee. This is important.”

“Fine. What is it?” she says, grabbing the beer.

“You know what it’s about. Charlie and Frank have just shrugged off Dennis being crazy or whatever but you can’t seem to stop bringing it up like a goddamn bitch.”

“So? I think it’s funny that he thinks he’s a prophet. He’s been a dick to me my whole life about being an embarrassment. It’s well-deserved karma.” She picks at the label of her beer bottle, not looking Mac in the eyes.

“You don’t think even for a second that he might actually be on to something?”

Dee looks up at Mac, unflinching eye contact full of barely repressed rage. “Mac, I’ve known Dennis my entire life. He’s batshit, ok? He’s fucked in the head. I know you’re a master of denial, but you should know this by now too.”

“I’m not denying anything! I – I really believe him. One hundred percent.” The words taste like lies in his mouth. Dee can see right through them. She’s always been able to cut right through his bullshit and plant seeds of doubt inside his brain. It’s one of the reasons he hates her so goddamn much. She always has understood him way more than anyone he loathed ever had the right.

“Do you? Or are you so afraid that Dennis is your one ticket to heaven that you refuse to see what’s right in front of your face?”

His stomach clenches with anxiety and fury. He gets up off his barstool, red hot and full of vinegar. “That’s bullshit! That’s fucked up – that’s a fucked up question – why would I ever –”

“Because you’re fucked up,” says Dee, voice raising in a steady crescendo. “You’re so far up your own ass that you’ll use the ravings of a fucking psycho to prove to yourself that you’re on the right path in life. That you’re a good person and you’ve been one all along. But you’re not.”

“You’re going to hell, Dee!” he screams in her face.

“I’ll see you there!” she screams back. He punches her in the face and she cries out in pain, flailing her arms wildly to try to strike back. Before she can get a good punch in, Mac books it out of Paddys. He doesn’t look back until it’s so far behind him that he can’t see it anymore.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blanket warnings apply. Can't think of anything else.

_he chooses the Schuylkill River as his location; symbolically it seems baptismal, even though it’s actually foul. it’s snowing in thick, wet flakes outside, making everything seem cleaner, purer. the soapbox mac found for him to stand on wobbles slightly beneath his feet as he mounts it. dennis clears his throat, and shares his wisdom with the world for the first time._

***

"Why didn't they listen?!" Dennis is pacing in their living room, hands clenched in his hair. His eyes are wild and his whole body is angular, tense. "I laid everything out perfectly. I planned for days. And they just - they just ignored me!"

"They didn't all ignore you," says Mac from his place on the couch. "Some of them laughed at you. People totally laugh at prophets, dude. It's part of being a martyr for your cause."

Dennis shoots him a withering look. "That only works if you have other followers first."

"You have me."

The pacing slows and then stops. He turns to face Mac, and takes his hands out of his hair. "I suppose I do," says Dennis in a quieter voice. His shaking palm rubs his eyes.

"Sit down before you collapse," says Mac. To his surprise, Dennis obliges. He flops down on the couch with his entire weight (admittedly, not much at the moment), turns his head towards the ceiling, and closes his eyes. His hands are still shaking, and his breath is shallow. Tentatively, he places his arm around Dennis's shoulder. Dennis rests his face on Mac's chest. Mac's heart speeds up; such close proximity to a prophet is intimidating.

"Maybe what you're missing is a miracle or another vision or whatever. Something flashy to get the audience going. The main one you already had is cool and all but it's more prophet-y when you keep getting stuff like that popping into your mind."

"I'm trying but nothing comes," says Dennis with his voice muffled. "It's too loud in my head."

"That's probably just the Devil trying to clog you up. You gotta push through it. Push your body to its limits. That's what Jesus and Moses and all those other guys did."

Dennis looks up at Mac, his eyes alight. "You're right. I'm just not trying hard enough." He extracts himself from Mac's arms, and stands up again. "I'll be in my room. Don't disturb me."

This is selfless. It is.

***

_dennis is running towards the unknown through a grey winter haze wearing nothing but a tee shirt and shorts. wind rushes through his hair and causes his eyes to water, sockets as pink as his cheeks and chapped lips. irregular heartbeats thunk in his sore throat in time with his heavy footsteps crunching through the snow; he cannot get enough air. nothing is enough nothingis enough nothing isenough nothingisenoughnothingisenough –_

_he pushes himself harder and his speed increases. when he drowns out his thoughts with labored breathing, starvation, and exhaustion he’ll finally be pure enough to Receive._

_something is coming_

_he finds himself standing on train tracks. the distant sound of rolling steel wheels becomes less so by the moment as the tracks vibrate and reverberate through his bones. standing in place has made his sweat run cold. his brain is so quiet as he internalizes being struck by the train, the impact giving him the last shove into the elusive epiphany he has been chasing._

_cheating death like the immortal he has become sounds satisfying but_

_dying a martyr doesn’t sound bad either._

_the bells and lights signaling the coming train begin to sound and flash. dennis leaps to the sidelines when he sees the train round the bend. it passes him by, rumbling the surrounding earth and gusting air and smoke in its wake. flying pebbles, dirt, and snow nest themselves in dennis’s hair and clothes. dennis doesn’t need shortcuts. he’s almost there. it’s only a matter of time._

_he keeps running._

***

Mac finds Dennis sitting in a field next to the Schuylkill River, skin as white as the snow dusting the grass around him. His bony arms are wrapped around his knees with his hands clasped tightly in front of them. The wind blows through his disheveled hair; it’s crusted with snow and filth. His shallow breaths puff visibly in front of him; they are the main sign that he hasn’t completely frozen to death. He looks like a vagrant waiting to die.

“Jesus Christ, dude. I’ve been searching Philadelphia all day looking for you. How the hell did you end up here?” says Mac. Dennis opens his mouth to talk, but instead he hacks when the cold air hits his lungs. The hairs on Mac’s arms stand on end as a strong wave of fear slaps him in the face. “You haven’t checked in all day. What happened to you?”

Dennis shakes his head. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” he says, his voice breaking.

A better person than Mac, apostles that aren’t blasphemous shams, would probably comfort Dennis. But Mac has always been weak against his own sin, and kindness was never something that came naturally. “You need to get up and come home right now, Dennis,” he says with a shaking voice.

“I just need a while longer out here. I’m so close,” says Dennis hoarsely. He looks at Mac with glazed eyes. “You’re interfering with my work. Leave.”

“You’re going to freeze to death out here!”

“That’s preposterous,” says Dennis, face hardening. “Gods can’t die. Do you doubt me, Mac?”

“Yes!” He admits. "Even Jesus died, Dennis!"

Dennis stumbles to his feet, pinkness returning to his cheeks. “You will rue the day you were insolent to me! Every day I gain knowledge the likes of which the world has never seen! I have power! I. . .I. . .” He blanches once more, and collapses to the ground in a dead faint.

Mac is used to Dennis passing out due to the shit way he treats his body, but seeing it in this particular setting is sickening. He looks like the little girl in that fucked up Christmas story who died in the cold because no one would buy her goddamn matches.

This isn't his fault. It's not.

“Dennis, wake up,” he says, nudging him gently with his foot. Dennis’s eyelashes flutter, but his eyes don’t fully open.

“Jus’. . .leave me here. I’m so –” Mac crouches down, puts his hands under Dennis’s armpits, and yanks him into a sitting position. Dennis offers little resistance as Mac pulls him to his feet as well. He’s disconcertingly light, more so than any other time Mac has pulled him up from fainting. Mac slings Dennis’s arm around his shoulder, and begins dragging his half-conscious friend to the car. “Where we going?” mumbles Dennis.

Mac sighs; at least fainting has made Dennis more compliant. “We’re gonna go get you a blanket and something to eat.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The description of rageful mania in all its terrifying intensity is most present in this chapter. Warnings for violence and physical restraint towards a mentally ill character, destruction of personal property, physical fights, religious hallucinations, vomit, blood, and the presence of a knife as well as stabbing that is hallucinated but doesn't actually happen. All in 654 words! Oh Dennis, you are a mess.

Dennis is restrained on the car ride home outside of mumbling to himself and darting his eyes around the car. However, when they get inside their apartment, something in him snaps. He furiously slams the door shut, picks up the nearest kitchen chair, and throws it hard onto the floor where it shatters into pieces as he screams and screams-

_he’s in a fist fight in some back alley of Hell, and flames are licking at his toes. the air shimmers around him with gaseous heat; it's hard to breathe. the man (the Devil?) he is fighting is much bigger than him. he punches dennis hard in the stomach and -_

Mac pushes Dennis up against a wall by his collar and punches him in the stomach to slow his struggle. He vomits his near-empty stomach onto himself and the yellow liquid spatters onto Mac as well -

_the sounds of his retching make his enemy smile at his weakened state. dennis tries to catch his breath, rasping audibly through the foulness-_

"Calm down!" shouts Mac. Dennis spits bile onto the floor and continues his fight against Mac's weight-

_the terrifying stranger rears back for another punch. he clocks dennis in the temple, dizzying him-_

It hurts Mac to punch Dennis when he's far gone like this, but he doesn't know what else to do.

"Snap out of it!" he yells as Dennis slides down the wall in a daze-

_it IS the Devil who steps forward towards Dennis's prostrated body. he shifts his form until he is Dennis, a mirror image in a meticulously clean Gucci suit, and smiles coldly._

_"You'll never get past me"-_

The blow to Dennis’s head is too disabling for him to get up yet, but the terrifying energy is still there. He bangs his fist on the wall over and over until a painting falls down and nearly misses catching his shoulder-

_dennis pats his pockets for something, anything he can use to fight back-_

A look of near-clarity appears on Dennis’s face, and he begins rifling around in his back pocket. Mac’s eyes widen in realization; he keeps his swiss army knife in there-

_a knife is shoved in the back pocket of his tight pants. he pulls it out and-_

There is no way in hell that Dennis is allowed to have a knife when he's in this state. For once Mac's reflexes work like they should, and he tackles Dennis until his back hits the floor with a sound thump-

_he stabs his likeness in the cheek, the chest, the arm, the stomach until his hands are coated with blood-_

The knife tumbles out of his hand and clatters impotently onto the floor several feet away. Mac pins his wrists to the floor-

_dennis’s rageful screams echo throughout Hell, striking him with terror. he has lost control he haslost controleaslosthecontrlo -_

Dennis wails like a wounded animal, tears running down his face, until his voice breaks and gives out. Gradually, his body relaxes until Mac assesses that he is likely no longer a threat. He resets his prerogative to caring for Dennis until whatever has possessed him to act this way has passed.

 **This is just a spiritual test** , Mac tells himself as he wipes the steadily flowing tears out of Dennis's eyes with his thumb. **He'll break through to the other side of it soon-**

_a hole in the wall of flames opens up, and dennis steps through to the other side-_

His crying slows, and then stops entirely as it's replaced by shallow breathing and pale skin. Dennis's eyes roll back into his head as he faints for the second time that night. Mac cups his head so it doesn't hit the ground when he falls unconscious.

_there is light everywhere, bright and ethereal. euphoria bubbles up in his chest, and he laughs in delight._

_he's finally made it to the Promised Land._

 

 


End file.
